


When Tomorrow Comes

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Outsider, Shovel Talk, this ship needs some more sweetness, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6940888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Armin wore his fear like armor – like something to be wielded instead of something to drag him down and hold him back. He’d grown immensely in such a small amount of time and everyone had been so concerned with Jaeger that no one had noticed."</p><p>-</p><p>In which Armin is discussed and Mikasa threatens Jean's physical well-being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Tomorrow Comes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [volee_weva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/volee_weva/gifts).



> Oh man, I haven't touched this fandom in decades.
> 
> Title is from Jessie J's "Flashlight" - 
> 
> "When tomorrow comes//I'll be on my own//feeling frightened of//the things that I don't know... I got all I need when I got you and I//I look around me, and see a sweet life//I'm stuck in the dark but you're my flashlight//You're getting me, getting me, through the night"

He was constant motion, Jean noticed.

That was what kept drawing his eye – Armin was constantly moving, hands flitting pale in the flickering candles as he talked, eyes bright and mouth drawn tight. He was in one of his almost frenzies, like he wouldn’t be able to get all the strategy bouncing around in his head out into the world if he didn’t talk as fast as humanly possible.

Jean sat back against the wall and watched him carefully, watched the quick sharp movements and the way Armin's eyes seemed to flick to him and away again, as though to check if he was still listening. Or maybe just that he was still there. Still in the room. Still breathing, afraid something had happened in the few seconds he'd taken his eyes off of Jean. 

Armin wore his fear like armor – like something to be wielded instead of something to drag him down and hold him back. He’d grown immensely in such a small amount of time and everyone had been so concerned with Jaeger that no one had noticed. He’d grown more than Jean himself had, for sure.

Deep down inside, Jean didn’t feel like he’d changed one single bit from that first day of training.

Hell, Armin may just be the bravest one of them all, Jean realized, and all at once his chest felt tight and the room’s air was too thin to breathe.

He got to his feet heavily, shoving himself up and heading for the door. The night was crisp and cool on his face, and he tried not to notice the way Armin’s voice stuttered over the last few words as Jean slipped from the room.

Not for the first time, Jean missed Marco. He constantly missed him, Marco’s death like an ever-present ache just behind his ribcage, but now more than ever, because Marco would sure as hell know how to talk him down from this insanity.

Because it was _insane_. They were in the middle of the worst war humanity had ever fought. Jean could die at any moment – they all could. And his heart chose now to go rogue?

“Jean.”

Jean leapt about ninety feet in the air, whirling around, hand scrabbling for purchase at his waist, for a weapon he’d foolishly left leaning against the wall inside.

Mikasa didn’t flinch. She stood calmly, barely feet behind him, red scarf hanging loose around her neck and Jean stared at her, heart pounding adrenaline through his veins. How the hell had he not heard her sneak up on him?

“What the hell, Mikasa,” he mumbled, letting his body relax and running shaking fingers through his hair. “You can’t just sneak up on a guy like that.”

“Sorry.” She didn’t sound very sorry. “I need to talk to you.”

“So talk,” Jean grunted, and turned back to the silent night, leaning on the porch railing. Mikasa stepped closer, until they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

The silence stretched, and when Jean looked sideways at her, Mikasa seemed to be searching for the right word. It was strange, seeing the crease between her eyes.

“What?”

Mikasa turned away from him and stared out into the night. “He likes you, you know.”

Jean briefly considered pretending that he didn’t know who they were talking about, but a flash of memory of golden hair and a rare shy smile kept his denial on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t think—” he began instead, but Mikasa cut him off.

“Don’t insult me or him by pretending you don’t see it.”

Jean sighed, and put his face in his hands, rubbing hard at his eyes before looking up again. Spots blinked in his vision.

“Yeah. Ok. I see it.”

Mikasa was quiet.

Jean stood the silence for all of three seconds. “So? What, are you here to tell me to stay the hell away?”

The words came out more bitter than he’d intended, and he realized with a jolt that that was the last thing he wanted to do. Waking up in the morning to this godforsaken world – sharing meals and battles and barracks and strategy – had gotten easier with Armin Arlert at his side. Armin woke up all bleary eyes and mussed hair and innocence for that first second before his memories kicked in, and the first time he’d blinked slowly at Jean from across the barracks had been the beginning of the end. He’d smiled, slow and hesitant, and his soft ‘good morning’ had stayed with Jean for the entire rest of the day.

Good morning. Who wished anyone a good morning anymore?

With a jolt, Jean tore himself from his memories and focused on Mikasa. She was looking at him curiously, and he wondered, stomach twisting, what she’d seen cross his face.

“No,” she answered, and it took Jean a moment to remember his question. “I’m not.”

Jean blinked, surprised. “Really? Why? I would have thought—”

“I don’t get to see him smile anymore,” Mikasa said quietly, looking past him into the darkness. “Ever. Except when he’s talking with you.”

Her quiet words sank slowly into Jean’s blood, and he felt his face go promptly scarlet. “I—”

“And you look at him like he hangs the moon when you think he’s not looking.”

Jean cleared his throat, heart rate picking up to hum frantically in his ears. “Now, wait a second—”

“I think you’re good for each other.” Mikasa reached for her scarf, fingers fiddling with the edge of the fabric. She took a silent moment to readjust it around her neck as Jean gaped at her in disbelief.

“You… you do?”

Mikasa hummed, and then fixed him with a glare so steely and intimidating that Jean took a physical step back. “That being said…” She stepped with him, eyes never leaving his. “If you break his heart, I will not hesitate to break your spine. I will snap it in half like a twig beneath my boot. And that’s nothing compared to what Eren will do to you.”

Jean’s blood went cold and he swallowed, hard, past the lump in his throat that was absolutely not total all-consuming fear.

Satisfied, Mikasa nodded once and turned away. She got three or four steps before Jean cleared his throat.

“Mikasa.”

She paused. Turned back.

And Jean straightened his spine. “I… I won’t. But if I do break his heart… I deserve that. And more. So do your worst.”

Mikasa stared at him, face carefully blank, before a very small, rare smile pulled at the corners of her lips.

“Welcome to the family, Jean,” she said softly, and somewhere out in the night, a cool breeze swept through the camp. “I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> When in the series is this ficlet set? EXCELLENT QUESTION


End file.
